LABB Copycat
by UnmercyfulDeath
Summary: ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ......A committed Suicide, B become a serial killer. C is going to avenge him, and L is going to die. And where is Naomi Misora in all of this chaos? right slap dag in the middle....again.
1. Letters

**LABB Copycat**

***

Chapter One: Letters

A letter.

A plain white letter, lying on a plain wooden desk, in a plain downtown police station's office.

There was nothing particularly odd about this letter, except for the wax seal on the front. The officers around the desk just stared at it, like they were expecting it to durst into flames of some other nonsense action. But nothing changed about the letter or the wax seal. It was still plain white, still a plain envelope. The wax was still dark maroon, still held the same symbol in it.

The officer sitting behind the desk, and the one assumed to be the head of the police department, had his hands clasped like he was in prayer, but he wasn't, he was simply in deep thought. The last time the police department of L.A. had gotten a letter, it foretold the first murder of a serial killing. He sighed, and picked up the plain white letter, and stared at the seal. The other officers fallowed the letters every movement, like they were still expecting it to do something.

The head officer adjusted his glasses and put his hand to his mouth, holding the letter in his left hand. Something about this letter didn't sit well with him. The seal of wax seemed to give of an aurora of evil. He had no idea why a simple symbol- or, rather, letter- gave him such creep up the spine.

There was no odd legend or story associated with the letter "C" was there?

Still, it gave the head officer a bad feeling, but the letter had to be opened; they had already started at if for more than a few minutes. Cautiously, and slipped his finger under the flap edges, and forced his finger through the wax that held the flap to the envelope body. It unstuck, the olden font "C" still intact. He flipped the flap over, removing the "C" from view, and pulled out a single black piece of paper. It was folded three times, perfectly and delicately, like the sender wanted it to be perfect for them at the station.

The head officer carefully unfolded the paper, and was greeted with something that puzzled and horrified him more than the envelope.

A crossword puzzle.

With another olden font "C" in the corner.

And two sets of clues.

The officer furrowed his brows, staring at the sets of clues. The writing was typed; the actual puzzle was probably made in some art program on the computer. The ink of the writing was white, to appear on the black background of the puzzle.

But, two sets of clues?

The officer let his gaze rise to the "C" in the upper right-hand corner. He picked up the envelope, with the maroon wax "C"

C.

The head officer gulped slightly, his worst fear about this letter taking wing.

LABB.

LABBC

The Los Angeles BB Copycat murderer…..

He cleared his throat and turned to a younger officer, and said; "Contact the FBI. And L."

**

AN: i don't think i've ever submitted my "Copycat" to before. which is good, because i didn't like the first version XD (the version thats on my Deviant account)

i started it over, i'm attempting to flesh it out.i'm also going to focus on details this time around XD

^^ so, please, R&R and give me some imput! i can't fix things if i don't know they're wrong ;)


	2. Game On

Chapter 2: Game On

The sound of high heeled boots echoed through the barren halls of a Las Angeles hotel. The lights were dimmed, and a storm raged outside in the midnight sky. The thin, famine form kept walking down the abandoned corridor, her hips swaying back and forth in a typical female-with-an-attitude manner. Her dress like clothing bounced with her quick step, her bell-bottom pants sweeping the back of her heel, but not falling under it. Her shoes remained loud on the linoleum surface.

In the dim light, her medium length hair gleamed a frightening blood red, her face pale, and her eyes dead. Her hands with her manicured nails clung to a long metal pipe, holding it close to her breast. Her dead eyes scanned the doors, searching for the number she needed. Her eyes finally fell on it, and the sound of heels stopped. She stood in the middle of the hall, clinging to the pipe, staring at the door.

Then she smiled.

Her eyes started the gleam with a vicious light, a violent, devious gleam. Her eyes practically became a waterfall of insanity. She blinked once, and all traces of emotion, of insanity were gone. But her smile remained, and she giggled slightly.

She lifted her gaze from the door to the not-that-hidden camera above the door. She titled her head the side, looking like a sweet young woman, ready for a date.

Her smile widened as she stared into the camera. Her low, somewhat raspy, monotone voice broke the silence, and seemed to make the very walls shudder,

"Game On."

She walked towards the door, swiping a keycard and silently opening the door.

The smell of sweets greeted her. Sickening sweet. Her nose crumpled in disgust. She pushed the door open more, and stepped into the sickening sweet air of the –supposedly- most guarded room in the whole of California. She lowered the pipe to her side, eyes searching and finding the lone figure in the room. Its silhouette was obvious against the light of a television in front of it, it's messy hair, it's baggy clothes. Screens and devices littered the room, as well as various sweets. The female sneered in disgust and anger. She stepped silently over to the oblivious figure, gripping the pipe tightly, her heart racing. She slowly reached him, and lifted the pipe behind her head, holding it like a baseball bat. In the light of the televisions, her eyes gleamed in pure insanity, of revenge, of fulfillment. The figure looked at the TV and began to turn to look behind himself.

She swung the pipe down, and the sound of metal against skull echoed through the room.

The world greatest detective was lying slumped on the floor like a rag doll, knocked unconscious, but not dead.

As much as she wanted to kill him, she needed him alive.

The hands holding the pipe let go of it, and the pale face of the female held a murderous smirk. She started laughing, while she pulled a small letter out of her pants pocket. She placed it gently on the oversized red chair the detective had been sitting on not five minutes earlier.

On the plain white letter was a dark maroon wax seal.

With the olden font letter "C" in it.

"Game on indeed, L." her monotone voice said through her laughter.

**

*is corned and about to be murdered by L fans* hehehe.......i'm sorry, guys, it had to be done! besides, i'm an L fan too! right behind being a fan for B ^^ *is mugged*

XP anyway, short chappie is crappie.

but next chappie gets BB!

and me still gonna ryhmie ^^

*is mugged by L fans again, then shot by Naomi*

Naeo: XD in case anyone cares, B's in the next chapter. ^^ whos up for a prision break?!

B: *raises his hand*

Naomi: *pulls it back down*

Vox: *bleeding fro being mugged twice* i'm up for a bandaid.....


End file.
